


The Last Dance

by nochick_fics



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7780195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nochick_fics/pseuds/nochick_fics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last dance of the night is their first dance ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kettle_cat. Originally posted to LiveJournal on 11/19/11.

From their semi-secluded corner table, Roy and Ed looked out onto the club’s dance floor where dozens upon dozens of men were dancing merrily under the dazzling lights of a disco globe to the insanely paced beat of an unavoidably mesmerizing song.  It wasn’t exactly their scene to say the least, but even so, once a month the lovers made the hour-long trek so that they could be together, out in the open, in a place where they were surrounded by like-minded men who loved other men… and who didn’t know the couple’s names.  Anonymity was an instinctive precaution, even when they were among their own.  
  
They rarely drank and they never danced--Roy for lack of want and Ed for lack of rhythm--but what they _did_ do, the one luxury afforded them in such an unlikely yet welcoming environment, was enjoy the mere act of a touch, whether in the form of a casual arm slung about the other’s shoulder or the intertwining of fingers across a tabletop, seemingly simple forms of expression that were not relegated to the privacy of their home in those few hours of freedom from prying and judgmental eyes.  
  
Of course there was the occasional incident here and there, like the time when Ed threatened to beat up the fellow who invited Roy to join him and his partner in a threesome (Roy accused Ed of being jealous that he wasn’t invited as opposed to being possessive, which may not have been completely untrue), or the time when one of the locals made the tragic mistake of telling Ed that he would look good in a dress.  Last month, a man whom Roy and Ed would henceforth refer to as Major Sparkles--on account of his penchant for slathering glitter over his entire body as well as his frightening resemblance to a certain other shimmering large man they knew--kept hanging all over the duo while he told tale after long-winded tale of all of his sexual conquests in graphic detail.  But in spite of those few drawbacks, the club was their home away from home, complete with strobe lighting, a Village People shrine, and the ever present smell of coconut in the air that reminded them of their current flavor of lube, and it would always be that way, even if all they ever resigned themselves to doing was watching the show.  
  
This was the reason that Ed was completely caught off guard when Roy asked him to dance as the lights dimmed and the last song of the night, “Endless Love,” began to play.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Would you like to dance?” Roy asked again, his eyes shining with amusement over Ed’s stunned reaction.  
  
“I thought you didn’t like dancing.”  
  
Roy shrugged nonchalantly.  “I don’t care for flailing about like I’m having a seizure,” he clarified.  “Slow dancing is another matter entirely.”  
  
Ed’s mouth hung open in disbelief for so long that Roy was about to say something that would have likely earned him a night or two without sex.  But before he could take advantage, Ed’s face scrunched in embarrassment and he uttered a humble yes.  
  
“I’ve never done this before,” he warned Roy.  “So don’t you dare laugh at me.”  
  
“I won’t,” Roy promised, rising to his feet and extending a hand to the young man.  
  
He led Ed to the dance floor, weaving through a sea of bodies until they found a spot of their own.  Roy turned around and smiled warmly at Ed, whose flushed face was still obvious in the reduced lighting.     
  
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.”  Ed’s stammering was barely audible over Lionel Richie’s smooth vocals.  
  
Roy brought his hands to Ed’s waist and pulled him close, and Ed instantly clung to his shoulders.  He then leaned down and nuzzled against Ed’s ear.  “Just follow my lead,” Roy whispered before kissing him gently on the neck.  
  
Ed hid his face in Roy’s chest and gripped his shirt tightly.  Roy brought his hands together behind Ed’s back, lowered his head to rest against a crown of blond hair, and slowly began to move.  
  
It was awkward going at first.  But even when the crushing weight of a boot-clad automail foot came bearing down on Roy’s shoe not once but _twice_ , Roy never said a word, never let go of the body in his arms.  All of the broken toes in the world would not have prevented him from cherishing this otherwise perfect moment, slow dancing with the man that he loved without fear or shame or hesitation.  
  
“This song is cheesy,” Ed blurted out.  
  
Roy grinned.  Somehow, even Ed’s unsolicited critique of a timeless love song seemed just about right, especially when it served as an obvious attempt to camouflage the impact that the moment was having on him as well.  
  
“I'm sorry.  Next time, I’ll see if the DJ will take requests.”  
  
“Well… I mean… I’ve heard _worse_.” Ed lifted his head and stubbornly regarded the older man, as if daring him to say something coy.  
  
Knowing damn well better than to do such a thing, Roy bent forward and touched his forehead to Ed’s, his lips curving in a knowing smirk.  “Thank you for enduring the torture just for me.”  
  
Ed frowned, annoyed at having been found out.  
  
“Shut up and dance,” he mumbled, hiding his face once again. But as the song progressed, he gradually relaxed against Roy, eventually going so far as to twine his fingers around the other man’s neck.  
  
And so they danced, holding firm to one another and swaying together fluidly in the presence of people who understood that their love wasn’t perverted or depraved, deserving of contempt or imprisonment or worse.  Their love was… just love.  The same as anyone else’s.   As the song neared to a close, Roy let his hands ease up Ed’s sides and along his shoulders before cradling his face.  He used his thumbs to tilt Ed’s chin upward, and for once, Ed met his gaze without a scowl or scathing remark.  
  
The kiss was brief, fleeting, although they would both think it longer in retrospect, as with most moments in life remembered fondly.  And when the song ended and the crowd dispersed, Ed turned and kissed Roy’s palm, then shook his head and let out a shuddering sigh.  
  
“Dumbass.”  
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
The lights came on.  Without the cover of near darkness to mask his poorly disguised affection, a crimson-faced Ed quickly turned away from Roy’s stare.  
  
“There, you got your stupid dance,” he said, as if having done Roy the hugest favor of his life.  He snatched his lover’s hand and dragged him towards the door.  “Now let’s go home.”  
  
*****  
  
The next day, Ed downloaded “Endless Love.”  
  
The day after _that_ , Roy found out about it.  
  
Ed has yet to live it down.


End file.
